


The Best Of Times

by CrimzonChyld



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coming Out, Family, Gen, Not Beta Read, Preseries, Teen Angst, Teen Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 09:02:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimzonChyld/pseuds/CrimzonChyld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div class="center">
  <p>Sixteen year old Sam has a bad day at school and makes a confession to his 20 year old brother Dean. Only AU because of the slashish kinda content but not Wincest . . . which makes me sad but it's not right for the fic.</p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Of Times

**Author's Note:**

> **For those yunguns out there, rabbit ears are antennas that were used for television in the olden days when you didn't have cable because nobody had digital television back then.**   
>  **I do not own nor am I affiliated with Supernatural, WB, CW, Kripke Enterprises, actors, or other affiliates there of. No profit is being made from this.**

Dean Winchester sat on the tattered couch of the tiny two bedroom apartment their father was renting (Dad only rented an apartment when they planned on staying a month or more.), cold beer in one hand, half a sandwich in the other. He was watching a random game through the static on the small television, having given up on twisting the rabbit ears any more to get a better picture, this was good enough.

Since graduating from high school, Dean went out on his own hunts frequently. He was never sure that was a great idea, leaving Sam and his father alone without him to act as a buffer between them but, so long as they didn't kill each other, he thought they'd be okay.

The best part about hunting on his own was avoiding the constant battle between John and Sam. Dean always had to play referee and he knew that Sam resented the fact that Dean was always on Dad's side. Sam didn't even listen to him anymore, like he had when they were kids. At least Dean knew how to calm Sam before some one started throwing punches.

The worst part about hunting was being away from his family, especially Sam. Even though Sam had become an annoying little shit since reaching adolescence, he was still Sammy, still his kid brother. He loved the little pain in the ass even if he'd cut out his own tongue before actually having to say those words to him.

These times, though, these times were the best times. Dean was between hunts, his dad was on his own hunt that he didn't need help with, calling frequently to check in and check up on things, leaving Sam and him alone. Not so much in Dean's care anymore, Sam was sixteen now, able to take care of himself. So now, he was just there to make sure Sam didn't do anything stupid and keep him out of trouble. There was less tension because Dad wasn't around and most of the time Dean and Sam could just be brothers. Not guardian and charge, not Dad's perfect, robotic soldier and rebellious son, just Dean and Sam, big brother and little brother.

It always made Dean think that it might be better, after Sam graduated, if the two of them did some hunts with just the two of them.

Right then, there was a stomping on the stairs leading up to the apartment. Dean glanced at the clock, Sam shouldn't be coming home yet. He usually called Dean from the library to check in (which Sam always complained about because he "wasn't a little kid" even if he whined like one), then did whatever geeks at the libraries did before Dean came to pick him up a couple of hours later. Sam always complained about that too, saying he was perfectly capable of walking but Dean wouldn't listen because it was after dark by then and it just made him feel better knowing exactly where his brother was, not that he'd say so.

Sure enough though, there was the sound of a key being shoved in the lock before the door swung open revealing a glowering Sam. Slamming the front door shut, Sam bypassed Dean without a word or even a glance and stomped towards the room they shared and slammed that door shut, too.

Dean sighed and drained the beer bottle and set both it and the sandwich crust on the table by the couch before getting up and following after his brother.

First he knocked, "Sammy?"

Dean knew Sam wouldn't answer him but he had to try it anyway before opening the door and walking in. He had every right to walk it, it was his room too, even while their dad was away they both stayed in the same room, even if the beds were kind of uncomfortable twin beds.

Dean nudged the door open with his foot before cautiously poking his head inside, lest Sam was deciding to pitch a major fit and throw something at him. Fortunately, Sam was just laying, face down on his bed, legs askew, feet brushing the floor.

Last year, Sam finally started getting some insane growth spurts. It had been about time, he had been a runt for so long. Now, he was almost as tall as Dean, though Dean doubted he would get much taller than he already was. He couldn't imagine Sam getting taller than him, after all, Dean was the older one, it would be a crime against nature.

Dean walked over and sat gingerly on Sam's bed, waiting to see if Sam would acknowledge him. Sam didn't, just stayed laying were he was, he had his baggiest jacket on so Dean couldn't tell if his shoulders had tensed up when he came in.

"Hey," Dean, brushed his finger back and forth, on Sam's elbow, he jerked it away with an annoyed sound. "What's up, kiddo?"

"Nothing," Sam grunted into the pillow.

"Riiiiiiight," Dean drawled, "C'mon, what's wrong?"

Sam didn't say anything but he did make a sniffling sound into his pillow. Dean frowned, was Sam . . . crying?

Sam hadn't cried for years, the last time Dean could remember Sam crying was when his brother was 14 and was in the midst of yet another argument about moving with Dad. Sam had been furious because they had stayed in one place long enough for Sam to get on the honor roll and secure a part in the school play. He had even been invited to Tammy Aavers birthday party, Dean didn't know who Tammy Aavers was but apparently being invited to her birthday party was a very big deal. Dean could remember clearly Sam and Dad screaming at each other as tears of anger and frustration streamed down Sam's cheeks. The whole crying thing was making it worse for Sam because he was feeling embarrassed and humiliated by his own tears.

Dean had grabbed his little brother around the waist and dragged Sam into the bedroom, who tried to fight tooth and nail against Dean's embrace. Finally, Sam had given in and Dean had held onto him while Sam screamed out his resentment into Dean's chest. Although Dean wanted nothing more to tell Sam that it didn't matter, that those people wouldn't remember him, that they would never care, that the only people who really mattered were him and Dad, they needed Sam, they cared about him, he stayed silent, his heart aching for Sam.

"Is it somebody at school?" Dean asked now, "Listen, did somebody at school do somethin' to you?"

If any of Sam's classmates had laid a finger on him, Dean was going to throttle them.

A small defeated sounding sigh came from Sam then, "Just leave it alone, Dean."

Oh, hell no.

"Who was it?" Dean demanded, getting off the bed and grinding his fist into his palm, "I want names, Sammy. Names and details, who did what to you?"

With another sigh, Sam finally sat up, looking at Dean with suspiciously wet eyes, "You're not gonna just drop it, are you?"

Dean just raised an eyebrow and after a moment, Sam scooted up against the headboard looking resigned.

"Scott Anderson," Sam stated, looking at the floor.

Dean sat down at the other end of the bed, waiting for Sam to continue.

He heaved yet another sigh before continuing, "All the jocks . . . well, the guys on the football team, they all sit at the same table in the cafeteria. Today, I was walking by their table and Scott Anderson tripped me . . ."

"He tripped you?" Dean asked, "Christ, Sammy, just kick his ass."

Sam open his mouth to speak but Dean held up a hand, "Look, I know you don't like to bring attention to yourself -"

"That's not it," Sam interrupted, shaking his head. "After he tripped me the rest of the team was all laughing and making stupid comments. I don't care, I really don't. They're all a bunch of idiot dickheads, I don't care what they think, I don't care what they say but . . ."

Sam paused, worrying his lower lip, he had yet to meet Dean's eyes. He didn't look all that upset anymore but he did look uneasy.

"But . . ." Dean encouraged.

Sam took a deep breath, "There's this one guy, Tom Louis. He was sitting there with his girlfriend, she's a cheerleader, of course, they were both laughing at me too . . ."

Dean thought he understood and immediately said, "Wait, wait, so this girl, what? You like her or somethin'? Feel bad because you were embarrassed in front of her?"

Sam gave him an exasperated look, "She's an idiot just like the rest of them, why would I like her?"

Dean shrugged, "Is she hot?"

Sam just rolled his eyes, "Tom called me a faggot."

"And did you punch him in the face?" Dean asked.

Sam closed his eyes for a minute before looking at Dean, "No, I didn't." He turned his head and looked at the wall. "It just bothered me a lot more than it should have."

Dean frowned, these were the kind of things he never really understood about his kid brother. If some kid called Dean a faggot at school, he would have handed their ass to them. Not Sam, no, he didn't usually fight unless he was physically attacked first. Dean was having a problem seeing what the big deal was. Sam didn't usually get upset about the things kids said in school, not since he was little anyway.

"Why?" Dean asked, he was beginning to lose interest and starting to feel just slightly uncomfortable.

Talking always made him feel that way, especially when it had to do with feelings. Dean would have rather Sam come home covered in bruises instead of carrying some emotional pain. Bruises he could deal with, hurt feelings, not so much. Especially since he figured Sam should be old enough now to be able to deal with hurt feelings without whining to Dean about it.

Sam looked at him, his face full of anxiety and apprehension, peaking Dean's interest again. Then Sam looked at the floor again and mumbled something he couldn't hear.

"What's that?" Dean leaned forward, "Stop mumbling, Sammy. Just spit it out."

Sam leaned his head against the headboard and looked at the ceiling, his eyes bright and shiny, he took a deep breath, "Because we made out in the locker room the other day."

Dean blinked, not fully comprehending what Sam just said, "What . . . you and this guy's girlfriend?"

Sam's head jerked up and he finally looked at him, exasperated, "No, Dean! Me and Tom."

Dean waited for a minute, sure that Sam was just being sarcastic but when Sam kept watching him warily, realization set it.

Oh.

_Oh._

"Oh," Dean finally said out loud, dumbstruck.

Sam's head thunked against the headboard, "God, this is so humiliating."

Ignoring Sam's comment, Dean stuttered out, "So . . . you're . . . you're uh . . ."

"I'm gay, Dean." Sam shouted, glaring at his older brother, eyes blazing, "A fag, a homo, a fairy, a pansy, a queer, whatever you wanna call it."

Dean held his hands up, "Okay, okay just . . . just give me a minute." He got up and paced the room for a moment trying to wrap his head around the fact that his little brother basically "came out" to him.

Dean stopped and studied Sam. The teen stared up at him radiating defiance, defensiveness and a midst all that . . . fear. Sam was afraid. Afraid of Dean? No, he couldn't be, Dean never gave him cause to be afraid of him. Then what . . .

Dean had a sudden moment of clarity. Of course! Sam hated being different. Maybe being gay in the world wasn't that big of a difference anymore, it was the tail end of the nineties after all. The thing was though, even if the rest of the world saw him as a freak and an outsider, he always had his family. Dean was as much of an outsider as Sam, so they always had each other. Even Dad was prone to give Sam odd looks now and then, let alone how much they fought.

Sam was afraid of being rejected by the only person in the world who didn't treat him like there was something wrong with him.

Looking at Sam now, Dean realized that knowing he was gay didn't make a difference. He was still his geeky, annoying, bratty little brother and he'd still die for him in a heartbeat to keep him safe.

Dean sat down on Sam's bed again and stared at the wall.

"Well, that explains it then," he said grimly.

Sam's eyes narrowed, "What?"

Dean turned to him with a smirk, "That stupid girly hair of yours."

"Shut up, Dean." Sam said, looking down at his lap, trying to hide the tiny curve to his lips.

"Dude, I'm serious." Dean held out his hands.

"So," Sam looked up again, uncertain. "You're really not freaked out?"

Dean shrugged, "What's there to freak out about? Not like you can control it or anything."

"You don't think I 'chose' it?" Sam asked, cocking a brow.

"Did you?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head, looking down again.

"Well, there you go then." Dean said, "An' even if you did, Sammy, I wouldn't care."

"You wouldn't?" Sam asked, a shadow of doubt crossed his features.

Dean leaned forward and slung his arm around Sam's neck, getting him into a headlock and rubbing his knuckles into Sam's skull, "No y'little pipsqueak."

Sam forcefully shoved Dean away but at least he was smiling now. A moment later, his smile faded.

"What about Dad?" Sam looked at his older brother worriedly. "Do you think I should tell him?"

Dean thought on it a minute. He knew that their dad loved them but he wasn't sure what his reaction would be if one of them told him they were gay.

"Well," Dean said hesitantly, "you might want to wait until after you graduate high school and are able to support yourself before telling Dad. Just to be on the safe side."

Sam nodded, "Yeah, you're probably right."

"I know a couple of the hunters Dad's friends with are gay." Dean said thoughtfully to himself.

"Like Caleb," Sam continued to nod.

Dean narrowed his eyes, "How d'you know that?" There was going to be hell to pay if Caleb or any other hunter had taken advantage of his baby brother.

"We talked about it," Sam said offhandedly.

"Hm," Dean mussed, "I guess that's cool."

"Oh thanks," Sam said sarcastically, "good to know I have your approval."

"Just lookin' out for you, Sammy." Dean grinned cheekily, "So, this Tom guy . . ."

Sam's eyes took on a sad look and he brought his knees t his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs, "It's stupid, really. I mean, I knew he wasn't gonna come out and declare his love for me or anything. I didn't even like him that much, he was just . . . there. And willing. And . . ." Sam smiled a little, "Kinda hot. I just thought . . . I mean if he had called me anything else it wouldn't have really bothered me."

"Maybe I should pay him a visit . . ." Dean said in a menacing tone.

Sam rolled his eyes again with another sigh, "I can fight my own battles, Dean . . ." He smiled then, "But thanks."

Dean nodded, "Hey, y'wanna go get somethin' to eat?"

Sam perked up a little, they didn't often go out when they were staying someplace with a kitchen. It was cheaper to cook canned soups and eat cold cereal.

"Yeah?" Sam answered questioningly.

"C'mon," Dean got off the bed and started towards the bedroom door, "Y'know, as long as we're out, we should catch a movie."

Sam's brow furrowed as he trailed behind his older brother, "It might be kinda late then, I've still got school tomorrow."

Dean grabbed his jacket from besides the door, "Skip it."

"I can't do that." Sam frowned.

Dean smirked at him, "Why, worried about your oh-so perfect attendance record?"

Sam shook his head, his attendance was abysmal thanks to the constantly switching schools.

"Look," Dean explained, "I'll need help working on the Impala tomorrow."

Help usually meant he wanted Sam to hand him tools as he worked but Sam seemed to like watching him fix up the Impala.

Sure enough, a reluctant smile tugged the corners of Sam's mouth, "Yeah, okay."

As Dean lead the way out to the car he said, "So . . . you're sure you're gay?"

Sam snorted, "If the raging hard on I got from making out with Tom was any indication . . ."

"Whoa," Dean turned around, "To much info, little bro!"

Sam snickered, "Just remember that next time you wanna give me a play by-play of your next date with a bar skank."

"Dude, I don't date skanks," Dean defended as Sam darted around him and got into the Impala.

Sam waited until Dean was in the driver's seat before he said, "No, I guess not. You just sleep with them."

Sam smiled brightly at the disgruntled look on Dean's face before asking, "Why'd you wanna know anyway?"

"Just thinkin'," Dean started the engine, "it's probably better that you're not into girls or anything. I mean, with me around, you'd never get any action."

Sam punched him in the arm and Dean pulled out the driveway and started down the street, still smirking.

So maybe his kid brother was gay but it didn't change anything.

These were still the best times.


End file.
